All For One
by AtLoLevad
Summary: An unexpected, but welcome guest comes to Tim's father's funeral. She offers up some familial comfort


McGee stood by his father's casket, unable (or unwilling) to move. He couldn't believe his dad was really gone. McGee sniffed back a tear, rubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, this was definitely going in the books as the worst Christmas ever.

A hand lightly touched his elbow, and without turning around, McGee said, "I'll meet you at home, Sarah. I'm not ready to leave yet."

"I know I have been gone for a long time, but I did not think you would forget my name," a familiar, teasing voice said.

McGee spun around, "Ziva?"

His mouth had fallen open in a hysterical display of shock. He studied her face closely, as if to determine if she was really standing right in front of him.

"Hello, Tim," she smiled softly, reaching out to squeeze his forearm, "I hope it is okay that I am here."

Tim nodded vigorously before pulling Ziva into a tight hug. Her thin, but muscular arms snaked up and squeezed his back in return.

"Of course it's okay!" he said into her hair, "But, how? I didn't - I don't know where –"

Tim could feel Ziva sigh into his neck before pulling away and holding him at arm's length, "Tony told me. When you called, I was –"

"With him," Tim finished, studying her face, "You were the date at the shooting range."

"Guilty," Ziva said, having the decency to at least look sheepish.

"You've been home for days now," Tim said, just a little bit accusingly, "You should have visited us."

Ziva shook her head, "No. I do not think that I could have. I am… not the same, Tim."

"Ziva," he said, "You're family! We all miss you. Having you visit would've been the best thing during that case."

"NCIS is not my place anymore, Tim," Ziva said, casting her eyes at their feet.

"It's _always_ your place, Ziva," Tim said earnestly, "We always want to see you."

Ziva nodded, her eyes getting slightly misty, "That does not matter now. What matters is how you are."

Her words jolted Tim back into reality. He had almost forgotten that he was standing inches from his father's casket. How had he forgotten? The power of Ziva, he supposed.

"I'm…" McGee tried to find a word for how he felt, but settled on, "Okay."

Ziva laughed, not unkindly, "Tim, you are not okay. Trust me when I say that. You do not have to pretend to be okay with us."

She paused, carefully considering her words. Tim didn't interrupt.

"I know that I may have lost some of this privilege," she turned the words over her tongue carefully, "Since I left you - all of you- behind for more than a year. But, I still… you are my family, Tim. Family does not have to pretend with each other."

Tim couldn't help it; he scoffed a little. Seeing the combination of hurt and confusion on Ziva's face, he clarified, "Ziva, you spent _years_ pretending with us. How many times did you tell us you were 'fine'?"

Ziva twisted a lock of her hair, "Yes, I suppose I seem like the cup calling the plate black."

And even though he had just finished eulogizing his father, Tim couldn't hold back the burst of laughter. It felt good to laugh.

"Pot, and kettle, Ziva," he corrected through a laugh.

Ziva waved her hand in the air, but was smiling, "It does not matter. Idioms will never be important to me."

Tim smiled at her, "You wouldn't be you if you actually learned them."

Ziva nodded, and touched the back of McGee's hand, "How are you really feeling, McGee? And do not lie this time."

McGee swallowed, "It…He shouldn't have pushed back his surgery. Then he would still be here."

Ziva nodded, gently steering Tim to sit in a chair while he kept talking.

"It was great having this last week with him, but I wish he had gone through with surgery. Then he would still be around," McGee was getting choked up, "I miss him, so damn much. And I'm angry with him. But how can I be angry at him?"

"Tim, it is so very easy to be angry at our fathers," Ziva said softly, thinking about her own relationship with Eli.

"I don't want to be angry with him. I finally felt like I understood him, and now…he's gone. I never got a chance to thank him," Tm swiped at his eyes, "I wanted to keep working on our relationship."

"At least you got the chance to start," Ziva said, and when McGee looked down at her, horror in his eyes, mouth open and ready to apologize, Ziva waved him off. "I have made my peace with Eli. We were never going to be a father and daughter again. Not after… everything. But I have learned to forgive. I will not forget, but what good is it to dwell on the past?"

She shrugged, and McGee could see the peace in her eyes.

"I don't want to be angry at him anymore," McGee said.

"That will take time, Tim," Ziva said, "He has not been gone very long. You are still thinking about everything that you wanted to happen. But you have the knowledge that your father loved you, and was proud of you."

She produced a tissue from the suit jacket she was wearing over her dress – Tony's, McGee noted absently- and handed it over. McGee blew his nose and crumpled the tissue in his hand.

"He had rules," Tim said, "Not like Gibbs. His own. We had this case, did Tony tell you?"

Ziva shook her head, "We do not talk about his work."

His work. Not their work, or our work. Maybe she really had moved on.

"It would take too long to explain right now," he said, "But a lot of what we were doing was either following or breaking Gibbs' rules. Somehow, over the course of the day, I realized why my dad was the way he was. I finally understood. I told him, while I was home, but…."

Ziva squeezed McGee's hand, "He knows, Tim. He knows."

"You think he's looking down on me?"

Ziva shrugged, "That I do not know. But, what matters is what you think."

McGee nodded, "You know? You've gotten much better at pep talks."

Ziva laughed, "I am glad that I could help. I really have missed all of you."

"Then come home," McGee said, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.

Ziva opened her mouth to respond, but the door to the room opened and Tony walked in.

"There you are!" Tony said, "You disappeared on me."

He dropped a hand on McGee's shoulder, "How're you holding up, Tim?"

McGee looked over at Ziva and then at Tony, "I'm better."

"Good," Tony said, extending a hand to each of them. He pulled his best friends to their feet and slung one arm around McGee's shoulder and one around Ziva's waist, "We're heading to the bar before going to your mom's house. I'm buying."

Ziva, McGee noticed, had pressed her body closer to Tony's.

"Only if you are buying, Tony," Ziva smiled.

"Yeah," McGee chimed in, "I could go for a nice, old Scotch. How about you, Ziva?"

Ziva leaned around Tony and looked at McGee. Winking, she said, "I think I agree with you, Tim."

"Look at this," Tony shook his head in mock exasperation, "Ganging up on me."

The '_like old times'_ was implied, but McGee caught it. One look at Ziva's face, and McGee knew she had caught it too.

Tony steered them out into the lobby of the funeral home.

"Car's waiting out front. Duck-man, Abs, Palmer, Breena, and the Boss are all en route to the bar," Tony spun around to face them, "You ready to go?"

Ziva nodded, "I am ready."

"Me too," McGee said.

Tony nodded and held open the door for both Ziva and McGee.

"Tim," Ziva caught McGee's arm as they walked out.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I am considering it," she said quietly and quickly.

"Considering what?" the younger man asked, before it dawned on him.

Coming home.

He nodded, "Good."

She smiled at him as Tony slid his hand into hers, "Yes, it is."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The plot bunny popped into my head after watching Tuesday's episode, and would not let go until I wrote it. So, I hope you all enjoy. And tell me if the characterization is funny. It's been a long time since I wrote for these guys. But damn have I missed them. **


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